Yan took the first measured breath in the chalk ring. Gu stood across from him with a pulse strip, eyes on Yan’s shoulders and hands. The laundry workers had moved to the far side of the courtyard, beyond the marked boundary.
“One,” Gu said.
Yan gathered the qi and guided it through the opening route. The method turned through his chest, then spread into his limbs. Blood-colored qi brightened around his forearms and shoulders. The promised surge of strength arrived at once. He felt the burst in his hands and chest, like a door opening into a wind.
Then the art’s internal life cost began. A cold pull touched his chest. Before it could become weakness, the Bizarre System reversed the cultivation harm. The threatened loss of a month’s lifespan did not take hold; the cost returned as life and vigor. Warmth flowed through his shoulders and lungs. The fatigue from the morning shift lifted. The qi he had gathered for the technique was spent as expected.
The red glow dimmed. Yan opened his hands and rolled his shoulders. His breath came easily. He felt stronger and more awake, not drained.
The first change he noticed was not the force in his arm, but the lightness in his chest. He drew in a full breath without the familiar drag of the morning’s work. His legs felt firm beneath him, and his shoulders sat easily over his spine. The method had spent the gathered qi, but it had not left him depleted. The renewed vigor felt like a clean morning after a full night’s sleep, only brighter.
He touched his chest lightly. There was no ache under his ribs and no weakness in the limbs. The cold pull had been brief and changed before it became painful. He looked at Gu. “I expected to feel the cost longer.”
“I saw the pulse change. Tell me what you felt, not what you expected.”
“Cold at the chest, then warmth. The warmth spread and my fatigue lifted.”
Gu checked his pulse strip. “Any weakness? Numbness? Pain?”
“No. The cold pull changed into warmth before it hurt. My breathing feels easier. My limbs are strong.” Yan flexed his fingers. “The qi I used is gone, but the life cost became vigor.”
Gu watched him take three normal breaths before writing anything. “Your pulse is steady. Don’t declare the result until I’ve checked the second reading.”
Yan gave him a grin. “I’m trying not to.”
“Try harder.” Gu checked his pulse again and compared it to the line on the strip. There was no collapse or tremor. “I see no sign of the weakness described in the warning.”
Yan laughed, the sound bright in the empty courtyard. “The art’s cruel cost became a source of renewed life for me.”
“That is what you felt. It remains dangerous for anyone else.”
“I know.” He looked toward the laundry workers. “The sequence alone won’t protect them.”
Gu asked him to sit on the bench while his pulse settled. Yan sat but did not feel fatigue. He waited for Gu to finish the reading. The qi reserve was empty, so he took slow breaths and gathered again only after Gu confirmed the first result was stable.
Gu had him stand, walk a straight line, and stop at the chalk mark. Yan did it without sway. He raised both arms, turned his wrists, and pressed his palms together. There was no tremor or loss of balance. Gu compared the pulse strip before and after the route, then added the exact time and charge. The reading was not a proof about lifespan; it was evidence that Yan had shown no immediate weakness.
“How long should we wait before deciding?” Yan asked.
“Until the pulse is steady and you can describe the first result clearly.”
Yan repeated the sensations in order. The qi rose, the limbs brightened red, the cold pull touched his chest, then the warmth and vigor replaced it. Gu marked each point. “Now we know what happened in the first activation.”
“Same intensity?” Gu asked.
“Same measured charge, same route.”
“Any new symptom?”
“No.”
Gu looked at the chalk boundary and the empty target area. “You may choose to repeat once. I’ll watch the pulse and count.”
Yan stood. He began the complete sequence from the opening breath. The red-colored qi rose through his limbs again, vivid against his sleeves. At the full release, the strength surged cleanly through his arms.
A second internal life cost began. The cold pull appeared briefly at his chest. The System reversed it into another spread of warmth and renewed vigor before weakness or pain could take hold. His breath stayed open, his shoulders remained firm, and the old fatigue did not return. The qi he had spent did not reappear; the result changed the intrinsic cost, not the energy required to activate the art.
Yan lowered his hands. “That was the same.”
The red glow faded from his sleeves. He waited for the familiar warmth to settle before looking at Gu. His dantian felt empty of the measured qi he had used. The second activation had required him to gather again; the renewed vigor had not restored the energy itself.
“Describe it before you look at the strip.”
“My chest warmed. My breathing feels easier. My arms feel lively. My appetite is awake.”
Gu checked the pulse and compared the reading to the first. It remained steady. “No delayed weakness so far.”
Yan laughed harder. The art’s warning had described a real life cost, but the System had changed his own response into vigor. Gu asked him to sit again so he could finish the measurements.
A laundry worker peered over the low wall. “He looks less tired than before practice.”
“Don’t imitate the art,” Gu said.
Yan nodded. “It’s dangerous for other people. The technique and my result are separate things.”
The worker looked at the chalk ring, then went back to folding. Gu recorded the time, pulse, route, and target area. Yan’s qi reserve was spent. He felt no cooldown or delayed weakness from the life cost, but he needed to gather qi before any further use. Gu closed the notebook and told him there would be no third activation that morning.
“Two tests are enough to compare,” Yan said.
“And enough to stop.”
Yan stood and walked to the far end of the ring. His legs felt lively rather than weak. Gu asked him to describe the change once more before looking at the pulse strip. Yan said his chest felt warmer, his breathing easier, and his appetite already awake. The first red surge had returned life as renewed vigor for him, while the qi he had spent remained spent.
Gu packed away the pulse strip. “We have a result for you. We do not have permission to call the art safe for anyone else.”
“I won’t.” Yan collected the chalk that had fallen near the boundary. He waited until the courtyard was clear before leaving. The laundry workers had gone back to their work, and the storage wall remained untouched. Yan rinsed the chalk dust from his hands. His strength felt clean and immediate, but the two recorded circulations were the only evidence they had. Gu would keep the warning in the file and the result beside it.